Page 26 of Oathbreaker

There’s no it’s like.

He’s spent the last four years in a Russian prison.

Clearly, the man has a death wish.

Especially since he’s not talking.

Royal sighs and perches on the couch arm on my other side. “You going to explain where you’ve been the last five years?”

“I’m trying to figure out how the fuck to start, man,” Colt mutters, tearing his gaze away from me and West and shoving a hand through his hair. “Half of this shit is classified. The other half isn’t exactly a pleasant memory to revisit.”

My chest goes tight.

And somehow sensing that, West laces his fingers through mine, squeezing lightly.

God, he’s such a good guy.

And Colt’s looking at me again.

Looking at me like I’ve just gut punched him.

Shit.

Royal settles his hand on my shoulder and I breathe through the guilt slicing through my insides. I’ve done nothing wrong.

Nothing.

So why do I feel like I did?

“I think the best place to start is at the beginning,” Royal says.

Banks pauses in his pacing of my living room carpet and turns to us. “So, you took the black ops job.” His words are quiet. “And things clearly didn’t go as planned.”

Colt’s gaze is on his hand for long enough that tension begins to ratchet up in the room.

Then he sighs.

“I had to go no contact during training, cut all ties to back home. But I wrote letters explaining what I could, trusted my handler to pass them on.” Another sigh. “Obviously, he didn’t.”

“No,” Royal says into the silence that falls. “He didn’t.”

Colt looks at him. Then at me. Then at Banks.

And the regret in his voice kills almost as much as what he shares next, some of it what I already know.

“I was supposed to infiltrate a Russian prison and extract a contact. I did the whole dumb tourist thing, breaking laws I supposedly didn’t know about and getting put into that prison. Only when I got there, he was dead, and it was clear my cover was blown. In less than an hour I went from a rescue and retrieve to being a prisoner for real and…” He’s staring at his hands now. “It wasn’t fun.”

West’s hand tightens around mine and I glance at him.

He jerks his chin toward Colt, mouths, “Go to him.”

The guilt in my belly is sharp and intense and it feels like it’s going to slice me into a thousand pieces.

Because, God, he’s such a good guy.

I lift our intertwined hands, press a kiss to the back of his.

Then I shore up my courage and move to Colt.